Mustard Tree

Back in the 1970’s there was a book which I read, by Neil Boyd called ‘The Hidden Years’ . In it he worked on the assumption that when Jesus told stories, they were based on his own personal experience, so for example, he was the man who was attacked on the road to Jericho. Following his example, I am hopefully writing five stories for Lent, telling the stories behind some of the parables.

Luke 13.18-21

⁸He said therefore, ‘What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? ¹⁹It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches.’

I remember the year that my husband planted the mustard tree which stands beside our house. Almost since the day we had married and moved into our house, I had nagged him to plant us a tree which would grow quickly, and would provide shelter for us as we worked weaving baskets for the village. But he is a man who likes to think carefully, to plan and to research. It is what makes him a good craftsman, but it can be very frustrating at times. As it was, our son was nearly eight years old when Nathan announced that he was going to the next village to deliver a big basket, and while he was there he was going to pick some fruit from a mustard tree which the client had beside his house. He asked Jonathan if he would like to come with him, and Jonathan asked whether he could bring his friend Jesus as well. The three of them set off with the old donkey carrying the awkward basket.

When they came back several hours later both Jonathan and Jesus looked as if they had been in a fight as their tongues and lips were purple from having eaten the fruit which they had picked from the mustard tree. They came running towards me, and when they opened their exceedingly grubby fists lying in their hands were some small white seeds. When Nathan joined them, he took the seeds carefully from them and put them in a small close woven basket, and left them in the sun to dry. Over the next few days the seeds turned from white to a pale pink to a pretty deep purple colour.

The land around our house is more stone than soil, which made it very good for building the house on, but no good for growing things. Nathan, with help from Jonathan and Jesus dug a big hole. They separated out the stones, then added some donkey dung to what was left and put it back in the hole. Nathan went and collected a couple of baskets full of good soil fron a neighbours field to fill the hole back up again. The boys then used the big stones and made a little wall around the newly filled hole. All three of them fetched water from the well and poured it on the soil soaking it thoroughly, then Nathan handed Jonathan the basket of seeds. Using a finger to make a hole in the soil, he planted six of the seeds, which he then covered back over. All three of them stood and watched almost as if they thought that the tree would grow before their very eyes.

When I had asked Nathan for a tree for shelter, I had imagined something tall and elegant with a long straight stem and a beautiful balanced canopy of leaves. I asked Nathan why he had chosen the Mustard tree, which grows only about 20 feet tall, is nearly as wide as it is tall and has a gnarled and crooked stem even when it is young. Nathan smiled. ‘Well’, he said ‘the Mustard Tree is nothing much to look at, but its branches are very dense, so it will provide us with plenty of shade. It doesn’t grow too tall so that it would become a danger to the house, or us, if branches began to fall off. It won’t need watering once it is established, and most importantly it will grow here in the rocky ground next to our house.’

Within a few days tiny little shoots appeared in the walled hole. Jonathan watered them every day until they were about six inches tall, and Nathan said that they would be able to manage on their own. Jonathan was devestated one morning to discover that a neighbour’s goat had got loose during the night and had eaten five of the seedlings down to the ground. He got Nathan to make a loosely woven basket to put over the remaining seedling to protect it. When the tree was several feet tall, and doing its best to escape the basket, Jonathan removed its protection. It grew steadily year after year. We gave it an extra drink of water the year yellow tendrils appeared hanging from the branches, and the unassuming flowers appeared for the first time. The fruits were delicious.